


till the end of the line

by trashsenal



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Borussia Dortmund, FC Bayern München, I Don't Even Know, I mean I'm not following any particular arc, M/M, Marvel AU I guess?, anyways yeah idk where i'm going with this, but it mostly resembles the marvel universe, just bc i'm familiar with it, lol i hate myself - Freeform, this is like an ungodly compilation of all the terrible superhero tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9488279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashsenal/pseuds/trashsenal
Summary: Joshua is a fledgling vigilante just trying to make a difference for the greater good. Julian is a nursing student just trying to cope with a random superhero crashing onto his fire escape....AKA the Julshua superhero AU no one asked for and, quite frankly, no one needs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance, tbh, this is what I do when I'm stressed. Enjoy :)

To be fair, Joshua never  _ meant  _ to crash-land on some stranger’s fire escape. In fact, crash-landing at all was a complete accident. Well, sort of. It was an  _ accident  _ in the sense that it wasn’t intentional, but it most certainly was his fault. Only an idiot would slip off the edge of a rooftop during a fight. It really wasn’t as easy as the movies made it out to be.  
  
He tries standing, but it  _ hurts.  _ Something beeps beneath him. It’s probably his phone. It’s probably broken. He doesn’t even know why he brought it. He rolls over from his stomach to his back, taking note of how the movement feels like  _ death,  _ till the cool, grated metal of the fire escape makes itself into a pillow for him. It’s raining. There’s something wet on his face, but it’s not the rain because he wears a mask like any self-respecting vigilante would. It’s probably blood. He tastes copper. Yup, it’s blood. He closes his eyes. 

The screech of the window being opened hurts his sensitive ears; he heard the frantic footfalls as soon as they hit the floor, running, running towards the fire escape. Of course, it’s useless being subtle at this point. So he just lays there, on his back, letting the rain permeate the spandex of his costume, while the owner of the fire escape nearly faints at the sight of him. 

“Oh, my God!” It’s a guy. Sounds young enough. Tall, by the sound of his footsteps, maybe a little lanky. His heart beats a million times in a minute. “Oh, my God, what the hell, what the  _ fuck,  _ are you  _ okay?” _ __  
_  
_ Joshua successfully sits, but then finds himself right back on the metal. God, everything  _ spins.  _ How hard did he land? And  __ how  did he land? He’s not sure everything is blurry because of the rain, or because he’s pretty sure he’s about to pass out. He’s yet to really see the fretful owner of the fire escape. 

“‘M fine,” He says. Oh, that’s blood. Definitely blood. Thick, hard to form words around. “‘M okay.”

The guy’s breathing nearly drowns out the almost painful splatter of the rain on the metal. Josh isn’t sure because his senses always pique when he’s injured or because the guy is just breathing really,  _ really  _ loud. 

“No, no, let’s get you inside.” He finally decides. Joshua groans. “You’re  _ definitely  _ not okay.”

So he just lets the guy drag him inside feet first. His head bumps painfully against the low frame of the window, making him yelp out in pain. The other boy mumbles an apology, but Joshua doesn’t care as soon as he feels the plush softness of carpet against his sore back. It’s such a contrast, such a luxury, to the wet fire escape. He doesn’t need any other attention. Just let him rest for a good hour, and then he could go. That’s what he always did. 

“Hold on,” The guy is practically talking to himself at this point. “Let me get some stuff.” He pauses, letting his frantic heartbeat fill the silence. “Um, please don’t die. Please.”

Alright. 

Joshua doesn’t know how long he’s gone, but when he comes back he seems more collected. His heartbeat has slowed, his breathing has evened out. Joshua feels a gentle hand on his neck, gingerly lifting it up, and then the softness of a pillow beneath his head. Much better than the fire escape, for sure, but he can’t get too comfortable. Through the mesh of his mask, he makes out dark hair that sticks up in twenty different angles and pale skin.

“Alright,” The other boy mutters leaning over him. “This mask needs to go--”   
  
“ _ No.”  _ Joshua weakly slaps his hand away when he reaches for it. “The mask stays.”   
  
It’s the first rule of vigilante-ing--  _ do not get caught.  _ If you get caught, you’re screwed. There go your friends, your family, your scholarships for college, your clean record. No vigilante wants their identity known. The first step in avoiding that is wearing something that doesn’t let people see your goddamn face. 

“Um, alright.” He says, slowly, but Joshua knows he won’t argue. “I thought so. But I need to check for bruising, so the spandex comes off.”   
  


It’s awkward, having someone else take the shirt off when he’s in such a bad position. He hisses at the feel of a cool, sweaty hand on his chest. 

“Does that hurt? When I press down on your ribs, does--?”   
  
“ _ Shit!”  _ Joshua nearly spits out, recoiling at the pain. It feels like someone is sticking needles in him and then hammering them in with the biggest hammer they could find. 

“Fractured.” The boy concludes. “Probably. At least one. And some bruising. I think.”   
  
“ _ I think _ .” Joshua repeats, gritting his teeth as he’s less than gently put on his side. “For a second there, I thought you knew what you were doing.”   
  
“They haven’t covered this in class yet,” He responds without missing a beat. “But it doesn’t take a doctor to know that you need hospitalization--”

“ _ No.  _ No hospitals. I’m fine.”    
  
There’s another pause. Then, the guy pokes him right between the ribs. It’s  _ death.  _

_ “ _ Dude!” Joshua exclaims angrily, balling his fists. “What the  _ hell?  _ You just said they’re probably fractured and you seriously fucking, I don’t even know, jab me? What the hell is wrong with you?”   
  
“See, if you weren’t in need of emergency care,” He says so nonchalantly that it makes Joshua wants to sit up and punch him. “That wouldn’t have hurt.”

“You’re not even a doctor.”

“I’m actually going to be a nurse.”

“I didn't ask for this.”

“What? The probable concussion or the--?”

“ _ Probable.” _

“Whatever.” The other boy cut him off. “So, who are you anyways? What’s your name?”

“ _ Das Roten.” _

“The… Red?”

“You speak German?”

“I’m  _ from _ Germany.”

He resists a  _ me too _ , realizing it’d be stupid. Sure, there’s probably plenty of Germans in New York City--  _ it’s New York City-- _ but it’s too much a liability. Still, he should've recognized the accent despite its lightness. Thank God for super-heightened senses.

“Huh.” He muses. “ _ Das Roten.  _ The Red. Never heard of you.”

Joshua grits his teeth. “Thanks.”

“I’m Julian, by the way. Julian from Dortmund.”

Julian from Dortmund. Julian from Dortmund who wasn’t a real medical professional, but simply a nursing student that wanted to take him to a hospital. Joshua decides it’s time to go.

“Hey, wait, where are you going?” Julian from Dortmund sounds surprised when Joshua gets up after a considerable amount of cursing. “You’re really hurt!”

“I have to go. Thanks for… The diagnosis.” 

He doesn’t mean to come off as petty and ungrateful, but Julian from Dortmund really hadn't done much other than get him out of the rain. Everything still hurt, but he could probably pop an Advil or three and feel fine come morning. Actually, no, he’d feel pretty shitty. Like being hungover, but also like being thrown in a food processor. But going to a hospital and actually getting, well,  _ everything _ looked at was just such a bad idea when he knew his injuries warranted some honestly awful excuses.

“I have a spare bedroom.” Julian from Dortmund announces. “I mean, it’s not a  _ hospital,  _ but you’ll probably just go home, take some ibuprofen, and insist you’re good to go again. At least rest a night under supervision.”

Supervision from a  _ nursing student,  _ Joshua thinks, but doesn't say it. Maybe Julian from Dortmund is just like him; maybe he just wants to do  _ good.  _ Joshua nearly shudders at the thought of having to sneak back into his crappy dorm room, treading lightly despite wanting to drag himself on the floor, in order to not wake the roommate who is convinced he’s into some weird, kinky shit because of all the bruises he’s always sporting. A soft, warm bed away from the rain and chill of an NYC autumn sounds much better. 

“Alright.” He sighs. “Fine. You win. But I’m gone before dawn.”

“Good. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

Again, Joshua has to bite his tongue from saying  _ me too _ . He can’t risk exposing himself to Julian from Dortmund even if he leaves some ibuprofen, a glass of water, and a note on the nightstand.

_ Use the window the next time. -- Julian  _

**Author's Note:**

> I love validation!!


End file.
